


it never fades away

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Major Spoilers, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 19:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14385573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: (it's staying)'All that comes out is a sob, gut-wrenching and expelled from somewhere deep inside her, the remnants of a grief she always knew she would carry with her.'





	it never fades away

**Author's Note:**

> I've got no words. 
> 
> Except - welcome back my favourite ray of sunshine. Please let this be real. 
> 
> Also just fyi I haven't watched the show in months so if anything's wrong/I have addressed anything just ignore it I'm just very emotional right now about this. Michael Cordero Jr forever y'all <3

It can’t be possible. Her eyes must be deceiving her.

But then why does her mouth still drop open in shock, her arms hanging loosely by her side. If this isn't real then why is it that when she inhales, it is shakily, as if her lungs have forgotten how to work.  

For standing in front of her, is the man she thought she lost. The man she buried, hardly able to see through tears as they lowered his coffin into the ground. The man she mourned, so deeply, so intensely, that she never thought she would smile again. The man she loved, the man she _chose_ , the man that was cruelly taken from her.

Her husband.  

_Michael._

She wants to speak, wants to say something, everything, but all that comes out is a sob, gut-wrenching and expelled from somewhere deep inside her, the remnants of a grief she always knew she would carry with her. She wants to rush to him, even though Rafael is standing right beside her, wants to slip into his arms and see if her head still fits neatly under his chin, but she crumbles to the floor instead. It is altogether too similar to a scene years ago, her phone slipping from her grasp as a stranger on the other line told her that Michael was dead, her legs giving way from underneath her.

Dead. Alive. Dead. Alive. Which one is it? 

This time it is Michael that comes to crouch in front of her, not Rafael. He lingers in the background, and she can sense just how uncomfortable he is with it all. But then Michael’s fingers are on her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze, and she forgets about anything else but him. Michael. The copious amounts of photographs she has of him are a poor substitute, and she drinks the sight of him in eagerly. His hair is longer, curling in the way she always wanted their children’s hair to curl, but his eyes are bright, his gaze steady. His fingers are warm on her jaw, and she allows herself to lean into his touch, tears hot on her cheeks.

“Michael,” she expels, breathless. She sobs, loud and intermingled with an acerbic laugh because how can this be real? “Oh god, _Michael_ ,” she cries, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. It’s warm. He always ran hot, but she never complained, not when she could curl into his side whenever she was cold. He’s grown a slight beard, the hair scratchy under her fingers.

Michael looks at her, and murmurs, “Jane.” Her heart breaks all over again at the sound of his voice – how many times had she listened to his voicemail? She lost count after the two hundred and thirty sixth time. That is the voice she thought she would hear every day for the rest of her days, the voice that sang loudly in the shower, the voice that comforted her, complimented her, supported her. And now that voice has returned to her. 

But then he says, “You are Jane Villanueva, right? I think I know you, but I can’t seem to remember,” and Jane’s sobs start anew. 


End file.
